The New Flatmate
by Fantastic Fanboy
Summary: John Watson needs to find a new flatmate to split the expenses of 221B Baker Street. However, he has no intentions of replacing Sherlock. Once a new flatmate is found, everything quickly goes downhill. The new flatmate is not all that he seems.
1. The Search for a New Flatmate

**Chapter 1: The Search for a New Flatmate**

It wasn't long after Sherlock's death that John Watson had decided that he needed to find a new flatmate. As much as he felt like he was betraying his deceased friend by finding another person to live with him, he knew it had to be done. Watson's wallet was becoming lighter with each day gone by, and he had yet to find a job. Who in their right mind would hire someone that was a partner of an accused psychotic murderer? Mrs. Hudson had even cut down Watson's rent to help him out, but it was still too much for him to pay. And that was the reason John Watson put an ad in the paper for a new flatmate to split the expenses at 221B Baker Street. However, John Watson was not looking for a replacement of Sherlock. No one could replace the eccentric detective he once knew.

* * *

Two days went by and still no news of an interested person to share the flat. Watson was getting anxious. He began to wonder if anyone would be interested due the same fact of why he couldn't find a job. Everyone thought he was somehow involved in all of those murders and robberies that Sherlock had been thought of committing. '_But no,'_ Watson thought,_ 'he was innocent. I knew him. I knew that he was a good person. So what if he was the oddest man known to earth. He was my friend. He saved a lot of lives, he didn't take them. Why can't people just see that!' _However, one question always reappeared in Watson's mind. _'Why did Sherlock say he was guilty of those crimes?'_

That was the question John Watson was debating over when the doorbell rang downstairs. As soon as he got up off the sofa he heard Mrs. Hudson calling to him.

"Someone's at the door. You better get it. It might be your new flatmate," she said excitedly. Although he knew that she was faking the excitement. She was almost as upset about Sherlock's death as he was.

He ran down the stairs and opened the door. "Hello," he said to the sharply dressed man in the door.

"Hello," said the man, "I'm Robert Brook. I was interested in sharing a flat."

"Oh, well then come in. I'm John Watson. Mrs. Hudson will make us some tea."

"Not your housekeeper," the landlady replied quickly.


	2. Robert Brook

**Chapter 2: Robert Brook**

"Are you sure we haven't met before. Your name seems so familiar. And I feel like I've seen your face before," John Watson said to the thirty-five year old man seated across from him in the flat. He had black hair, black eyes, fair skin, and was just about six feet tall. His voice was soft, but not sweet. Almost like Moriarty's. John Watson shuddered at the thought.

After sipping some tea that Mrs. Hudson had ultimately made, Robert Brook replied kindly but quickly. "I can't recall ever meeting you before."

John Watson pushed the thought away and asked Robert Brook what he did for work. Watson assumed that he did something with high status as the man looked very well kept and rich by his clothing. However, he was taken aback when he said that he was out of work.

"I went to law school for three years before my mother became ill with cancer." He stopped for a moment and drew in a deep breath. "I was planning on becoming a lawyer but my mother needed me to care for her. I couldn't stand by and let her suffer by herself. You see, my mother and father had divorced a few years before the cancer started, and he refused to help with the medical expenses. I had no choice but to withdraw the money my father gave me for my college expenses and use it towards my mother's treatment. She passed away, to my greatest sadness…." A tear was rolling down his cheek by then, and Watson began to feel real bad for the man. "My father was absurdly angry at me for giving up my education," Robert Brook began again, "and so he cut off all contact. I was angry with him for that. I never wanted to hear him name or see his face again. However, before he died of a rare disease called Klytamuenza, he must have had second thoughts about leaving me all on my own. I received all of his money and property as was stated in his will. It was either take the money of my disgraceful father, or live out on the streets. I had decided to take the money and create a name for myself, but my opinion of my father hasn't changed. I plan on going back to school and finishing my education, but I don't have the money right now."

John Watson felt bad for Robert Brook, but he had to ask one more question. "If your father gave you all of his money and property, why do you need to share a flat?"

"You see my father wasn't the wealthiest man. He made a lot of money but he was a gambler. I had to sell the property a few years back because the mortgage was too high. It was bought for a reasonable price, but over the years my money dwindled back down again. Poor budgeting, I guess. The hotel I was staying at was pretty expensive, as well. Now I plan to get my life back on track, and so I ask for your help."

Watson replied, "Well, you seem like a reasonable person who needs some help and it seems like we could both use the extra dough. How about I talk to Mrs. Hudson and I'll phone you in the morning?"

"Brilliant," replied Robert Brook.

John showed him the way out and went back up into his flat to think. The man seemed kind enough, but there was something odd about him. Not Sherlock odd, suspiciously odd. The man was wearing top of the line clothing, but yet he seemed to be going poor. _He must of bought that when he had more dough_, John Watson thought quickly. _And he seemed so certain that he didn't know me, even though he seems so familiar_, he thought also. John decided that it was just his paranoia that was making him think this way. After all, he did have five assassins as neighbors a few months ago. You could never be too careful.

John Watson desperately wanted Sherlock with him right now so he could analyze the man that had just left. But Watson's hope of Sherlock being alive was dwindling almost as much as his wallet.

It was nearing dusk, and John Watson decided that he was going to go to bed. He would sleep on it and make his final decision in the morning. All that night, Watson tossed and turned. He couldn't stop thinking of how Robert Brook's voice was so similar to Moriarty's. That small fact bothered him more than anything else.


	3. The Wrong Decision

**Chapter 3: The Wrong Decision**

After a fitful night of minimal sleep John Watson went downstairs to cook some breakfast. He decided that he was going to make some toast with marmalade. He wasn't in the mood for eating anything, but at the same time he was hungry. While John was waiting for the bread to crisp, he went on the computer to check his blog. He rarely went on his blog anymore as nothing interesting had happened since… well… there were obviously no cases he could write about. Without Sherlock, everything seemed so mundane. Whenever John Watson even thought of Sherlock Holmes a deep pain began in his heart and head began to ache. However, sometimes he went on the blog to see if he had any messages from Molly or Mycroft. Sometimes they would have a small conversation without much meaning other than to check in on each other. This morning he had no messages, and that's when he had a brilliant idea. He was going to look up Robert Brook on one last attempt to see if this guy was a psychotic criminal or just a guy trying to create a better life for himself. This is what he found:

NAME: Robert Brook

AGE: 35

FATHER: Thomas Brook

MOTHER: Judith Thompson (deceased)

SIBLINGS: None

All the other background information that John Watson found about Robert Brook matched exactly what he had said the day before. Of course, anyone could create a fake identity, but John knew that if he doubted everyone who walked through his door then he would never find a new flatmate. But that voice was so similar to Moriarty's. _Moriarty is dead_, John remembered, _He's dead just like Sherlock._ The deep pain started again. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out... slowly. After he calmed down he picked up the phone and dialed the number Robert Brook had given him the day before.

020-6674-2789

Ring…ring…ring…

Robert Brook picked up the phone and John told him that he would be happy to share the flat. Robert said that he would be moving into the flat in two days time.

Beep…beep…beep…

John Watson suddenly realized that his toast was still in the toaster and now burnt to a crisp. The smoke traveled to the fire alarm and Mrs. Hudson ran upstairs at the noise of the alarm.

"What on earth…?" she began. Then she noticed the toast and John trying to calm the smoke. Mrs. Hudson, frazzled beyond belief, took the toaster and threw it out the window.

"Mrs. Hudson!" exclaimed John Watson, clearly surprised.

"Sorry dear," she replied. "Sometimes my nerves get the best of me."

John Watson couldn't help but to laugh and then he ran to the window to make sure no one was hit by the 'flying' toaster. Luckily, no one was.

Mrs. Hudson still had a shocked expression on her face, but he decided he should tell her he found a new flatmate anyway. After he picked up the toaster, of course.

* * *

**The phone number is very important. It is not a set of random numbers.**


	4. Robert Brook Moves into the Flat

**Chapter 4: Brook Moves into the Flat**

Watson had been dreading the moment when Robert Brook was to walk through his doors. He wasn't sure why he was dreading it, though. It must have been a mixture of feeling guilt for getting a new flatmate and nervousness. He was nervous for his own safety… and for Mrs. Hudson's. What if this guy was a jack-in-the-box just waiting for John to crank the wheel so he could come out and kill him. _Calm down Watson, _John said to himself. He knew that he was worrying himself to death. This had to stop. He took a sip of the lukewarm tea he held in his shaking hand.

Ding... dong…

The doorbell rang and John Watson nearly jumped out of his chair. His coffee fell out of his cup and landed all over his trousers. It made him look like he had just wet himself. He went to his bedroom and changed his pants as quickly as he could.

Ding… dong…

"Coming!" John Watson yelled down the stairs, wearing his new trousers. He ran down the steps and unlocked the door. Mrs. Hudson was out shopping for groceries, therefore she wasn't present to greet Robert Brook. Watson was all alone.

"Hello," Robert Brook said with a smile, two identical suitcases in hand.

"Welcome," replied Watson.

Watson had learned from their previous meeting that Brook liked to talk but was also somewhat reserved. The kind of man who would strike up a conversation with someone, but wouldn't speak in front of a large crowd. This puzzled John because the man said he wanted to become a lawyer. Lawyers are supposed to speak in front of crowds. Nonetheless, John Watson led Robert Brook upstairs and showed him his new bedroom. Brook didn't seem impressed with his room, but he mumbled his thanks to John anyway.

John left the man to do his unpacking and knew that it would be awkward living together. _You would think that after living with a man like Sherlock I could get used to anybody,_ Watson thought. However, this man put him on edge. Robert Brook was suspicious under Watson's eyes but yet Watson agreed to share the flat because he needed the money. He also needed a distraction… a distraction from thinking about Sherlock all the time; Even if that meant worrying about something else.

* * *

Try as he might, Watson couldn't sleep that night. He didn't trust the man in the other bedroom. In truth he wasn't just worried, he was scared.


	5. A Glimpse of Hope

**Chapter 5: A Glimpse of Hope**

A few days had passed since Robert Brook moved into the flat. Nothing bad had happened yet, but it _had_ only been a few days. Watson still couldn't find a job so he usually stayed in his flat, took a walk around Baker Street, and went into Speedy's Café from time to time. Life was boring… way too boring for the retired army doctor and former detective's assistant. The word former struck a pain deep into his heart.

John Watson noticed that Robert Brook didn't talk much to him, and sharing the flat with this stranger was even more awkward than expected. Brook usually got up at eight, drank the blackest tea John had ever seen, left the flat around nine, and came back late at night in the same condition he had left. Brook was very punctual, and John found him a bit mundane. However, John knew he couldn't criticize the man for being dull, when that's all he had been for the past three months since Sherlock's death. Watson had even stopped dating because he felt that he was boring his girlfriends half to death talking about Sherlock all the time. He even suspected that many of them thought he was gay.

One morning, after Brooks had left the flat, John decided to read the paper. He hadn't read the paper in a while because he was still mad at the press for creating such a bad name for Sherlock. However, he knew that he needed to know what was going on in the outside world. Page by page John read the miniscule words and looked at the black and white photos. Nothing caught his eye much until he got to the last page.

On the very last page of the paper there was a large group of people at the reopening of a local history museum near London's border. There, way in the background, was a man that closely resembled Sherlock. In fact, it was Sherlock. Only someone very close to him would realize it, but it was definitely him… there was no mistake about it. It took John Watson a moment before he fully realized what his eyes had just seen.

"He's ALIVE!" exclaimed John Watson to himself, although half of Baker Street could probably hear him. He then followed his exclamation with a string of curse words which made Mrs. Hudson cringe downstairs. Watson's heart swelled up with happiness and his head finally seemed clear. After calming down (which took quite a while), Watson's first instinct was to try and find Sherlock. He looked at the name of the museum and then found the address in the paper. He then got a taxi and gave the driver money, instructing him where to go. Watson didn't like to waste money, but this was important. This was way too important to worry about his limited dough. This was by far the happiest John had felt since Sherlock's death.


End file.
